Romanticism: A Midwest Survival Guide

Growing up in the Midwest, I couldn’t wait to leave it. Fields of corn and soybeans are permanently engraved into my memory from hours upon hours of driving time on country backroads. I come from a land where everyone knew 1-3 inches of snow meant to stock up on milk and bread, while 6+ inches of snow meant to stock up on beer and liquor. Black Ice was more than a car air freshener, and in the summer it was never the heat—but the humidity that would get ya. I grew up in a small town on the river banks of Southern Indiana; where your last name determined your reputation, so you had better hope you had a good one.

A Grandfather’s Legacy

As far as I know, Bruners were unproblematic: a legacy left by my grandfather of being hardworking, helpful, and good-natured. A highly regarded member of the Masonic Lodge and community alike: these values were passed down to my father and my uncle, and instilled into my brother and I from birth. Hardworking, helpful, and good-natured: yes, the keys to success—and definitely not exploitation. Nooo, nobody will ever take advantage of those traits.

Let’s get one thing straight before I go much further— realize how I sound: a member of a younger generation with a chip on their shoulder. I won’t deny it, there is in fact, an existence of said chip, and I’ve earned it. It’s a part of me. I don’t want to live in a victim mentality, but to deny its very existence would be lying to myself and to you too. I am many things, dear reader, but a liar isn’t one—maybe it’s that good-natured crap coming out, or maybe it’s a generalized anxiety disorder. But anyway, more on me and my chip later.

Youthful Restlessness

When I graduated high school, I knew my hometown wasn’t a place where I would thrive. Coming from a town of 8,000 located an hour away from anything worth a damn— I, like many of my peers, had big dreams to get the hell out. A few years later, I obtained my degree and I applied for every job in my field of study in every location in the country that sounded even the least bit interesting. Nothing broke for me. Then right when I’ve settled for a boring starter job, a pandemic. I’m not sure if it was the cabin fever that everyone faced during 2020, or if I had finally had my spirit properly crushed by the real world, but I was growing restless. I threw up a Hail Mary and called my best friend from college. I hopped the state line and moved four hours north to a college town that I knew exactly 4 people in. To this day, when people (mostly from Chicago) complain about Champaign being small, I reply with “They’ve got a Home Depot, Lowes, AND Menards. This is a metropolis!”

On second thought, being excitable about big-box hardware stores, is very midwestern of me. Growing up on the border of Indiana and Kentucky gave me a bit of a different view of life than I found in Champaign. While most experiences overlapped, I did find that the barbecue and sweet tea in central Illinois were sub par and people sometimes looked at me funny when I said “y’all” or my subtle drawl accidentally slipped out. Despite this, the people in Champaign were very kind and I quickly found myself at home in the charming brick paved streets in the old part of town.

Romance in the Mundane

After five years in Central Illinois, with my observant yet curious inclination, I think I’ve finally figured out how you survive in the Midwest, or perhaps anywhere: Romanticism.

Now believe me, this is not an easy feat. Especially in a land where the windchill factor can go below 0° for 4+ months a year. In order to romanticize the Midwest, you must do it through logic and rationalization rather than idealism and emotion. Naturally, this sounded absurd to my proclivity toward the dramatics, until I realized I already embodied most of my findings. Below, I will share them with you from a slight anthropological lense, because I am oh-so generous (or obnoxious…reader’s choice). 😉

Characteristics of a Classic Midwesterner

Midwesterners are often friendly, stoic, and take pride in work ethic. They can often be aloof with matters of the heart, and will often show love through acts of service. Most midwesterners will not shower you in diamonds and roses, or serenade you in the park— frankly, most overt PDA will be met with discomfort. A midwesterner will help your neighbor build their deck, change your oil in your car, or remember your favorite snack from the gas station. They’ll often call you up when they’ve made too much food and send you home with an recycled Cool-Whip or Country Crock Butter container full of spaghetti, that you will then keep to return the favor at a later date. Midwesterners show love in a pragmatic way.

I pondered about the things that I value in others and somehow kept coming up with helpful, hardworking, good-natured. Yes, the very traits that I’ve felt the slight sting of resentment for being instilled into me, are in fact, what I admire the most in my loved ones: the duality of the situation isn’t lost on me, trust me. These values, I feel are admirable traits no matter where you live, but are heavily emphasized and celebrated through midwestern culture. Maybe in writing this piece, I’ve actually just healed a part of that old chip on my shoulder. 

Midwest Activities

There’s not shit to do in most of the Midwest. There. Someone had to say it.

 I spent many evenings in high school driving around backroads with friends or parking at the back of the Walmart parking lot, which in our small town, became somewhat of an unofficial tailgating spot. We like to do that a lot— congregate with our friends, especially outdoors, and especially with alcohol and food.

If you were at a bonfire or around a fire pit, one guy (usually a closeted pyromaniac of any caliber) will always step up to keep the fire going. In their own special way, this is an act of platonic love— keeping the fire going is in turn, keeping the party alive, which will encourage your friends to stay just a bit longer. Also, makes big, cool fire. Even though I resented it in my high school years, I do believe living in a small town with almost nothing going on has guided me to finding amusement easily, appreciating good company, and being content with a little peace and quiet. Though in all honesty, you’d have to drag me back kicking and screaming in order to get me to move back. 

Midwest Delicacies

I grew up an hour away from Evansville, Indiana: once crowned America’s Fattest City. There’s been a ton of retraction surrounding that statement in recent years, though the West Side Nut Club’s annual Fall Festival consisting of beautifully indulgent fair food favorites and unique deep-fried eats… it probably didn’t help matters much in trying to shed that title. Don’t take that as a judgmental statement, I lived for Fall Fest, as do many of my friends. Evansville’s relatively high restaurant-per-capita is also a leading contributor to the unflattering crowning too, I’m sure—but I’m no doctor. 😉 Despite this unflattering title, you can try to pry a deep fried Oreo or Pronto Pup out of my cold, dead hands. 

While Kentucky really isn’t a part of the Midwest, Owensboro was right across the river from where I grew up and had its own spin on comfort eats called BBQ Fest (later renamed the Barbecue and Barrels Fest) in the spring. Sometimes I find myself drooling over the thought of a bowl of Burgoo or Turtle Soup, knowing I’ll never find it this far north.

Even moving north to Champaign and being engulfed into a college town full of interesting niches and cuisines, it’s safe to say food has always been a part of my culture. While a lot of older midwesterners may struggle with changing from their country fried steak and mashed potato repertoire, I would say most of my generation would consider themselves to be foodies, or at least dabble in the art.

On one drunken visit to Champaign before I eventually made the permanent move, I found myself sandwiched in a booth in an old-school diner. “You HAVE to get a horseshoe,” I was told with much insistence. Then before me came an open faced burger with fries on top, drowning in melted cheese: it was love at first bite. It also beat the hell out of Indiana’s staple sandwich— the pork tenderloin sandwich (look it up, it’s large and ridiculous—that’s all I can say about it). Later, I learned about Italian beef and the proper way to garnish a Chicago dog. The influence Chicago had on this mid-sized town 2-3 hours south of it was undeniable, and with food like this, you won’t find me mad one bit about it.

Angst Builds Character

There is a special kind of angst in a person that grows up in the Midwest, some just suppress it more than others. If it isn’t obvious from the beginning of this piece, I place myself high in the angst category. I think back to being 13, 17, even 21 and wondering who I’d become—swearing I’d leave my hometown in the dust. Even at 30, I recognize my story is still being written and free will exists. Champaign was never supposed to be a final destination and maybe it still isn’t. Though somewhere along the lines, I fell into a sense of community and things just started to click.

My youthful desires of erasing my roots have slowly started to replace itself with a craving for understanding myself in relation to my community and environment around me. Growing up in a working-class environment comes with the tradeoff of never being truly comfortable in a realm outside of that. I love art museums and fancy cheeses and pretending that second glass of wine won’t give me a headache in the morning; but I also love a draft beer and eating a porkchop that was smoked in a makeshift smoker in the parking lot of your local dive bar while somebody’s meemaw behind the bar calls you “hun”.  I can’t conceal that part of me, that would be disingenuous. My multitudes make me who I am.

I won’t convince you to move to the Midwest, it’s not for everyone. At one point, I even thought it wasn’t for me. Though if you can find amusement in small things, don’t mind crazy weather, and enjoy an occasional fried cheese curd, you’ll probably do just fine.